


Love Me in Excess

by Bird Uri Eunha (magentoff)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Abramsverse, Cute, M/M, Star Trek 2009 - Freeform, Star Trek Into Darkness, TOS, how the hell do you tag stories, spirk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 20:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5715988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magentoff/pseuds/Bird%20Uri%20Eunha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When love is in excess, it brings a man no honor, no worthiness.” How Kirk goes about convincing Spock otherwise. But first, of course, they have to fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chess

**Author's Note:**

> “When love is in excess, it brings a man no honor, no worthiness.” –Euripides
> 
> Takes place after the events in the 2009 movie, and later on, after Into Darkness (aka spoilers). Contains TOS refs because I'm just illogical like that ;)
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!  
> Love,  
> Bird

“Spock?”

“Spock.”

“Spoooooock.”

“Spooooooooooooooooooock.”

The door finally opens, revealing a tall, intimidating figure clad in black.

“Captain,” the Vulcan in question responds rather stiffly. His back is as straight as a rod, his hands are clasped behind his back, and his lips are in the same straight, tight line as always.

 _He’s miffed,_ Jim thinks with a smirk. _He thinks he’s got it all perfectly hidden away in his blank Vulcan face, but he really hasn’t._

“Commander.” Jim responds with the same amount of stiffness in mockery.

Spock’s eyes narrow slightly. Good, Jim thinks giddily. A reaction.

Kirk continues totally-not-pestering-his-first-officer. “Why didn’t you open the door when I called for you the first time? I know you heard me, with your mighty Vulcan hearing and all that. Truly it isn’t only _logical_ , but _necessary_ , to immediately respond to your captain’s summons?” Jim tries very, very hard not to sound like he’s about to break out into laughter.

Spock stares at him.

And stares.

And stares some more.

 _Ok,_ Jim thinks. _This is getting a little uncomfortable._

 _Abort mission, I repeat, abort mission,_ part of his mind screams. Another part of his mind tells him to keep goading Spock because it’s great fun.

Guess which side wins?

“Permission to stop staring, granted.” Jim cracks a huge grin as he says this, and sure enough, the Vulcan’s eyes narrow even more. _Emotionless, my ass. Whoever thought that has obviously not teased enough Vulcans in their life. Or mind melded with an elderly, alternate reality version of their Vulcan first officer._

“Captain, may I remind you that you are currently standing in front of my living quarters at 0106 hours,” Spock states simply, his head tilting the slightest of angles to the left.

 _He does that when he’s either confused or curious or both_ , Jim thinks with no little affection.

“Was there a question there, Mr. Spock? Or were you just deflecting my accusation?” Kirk teases relentlessly. He could do this all day. Or night. Is 1 am night or day, if you think about it?

The dark eyes briefly narrow into slits before returning to their normal state of controlled blankness. Kirk almost pouts.

“If there is nothing you need, then I will return to my quarters to meditate, _Captain,_ ” Spock says frostily and with finality.

“Wait!” Jim cries out, and there’s a catch of vulnerability in his voice that he hadn’t meant to release. He inwardly curses, but quickly forgets his emotional slip-up when his first officer (who had already turned away without waiting for a reply, the _bastard_ ), turns back.

Jim hadn’t come here just to tease Spock, dammit. He was here for a reason.

He shifts uncomfortably. Teasing and messing around is what he’s comfortable with, not admitting weakness.

“I know that Vulcans don’t need as much sleep as humans, and I couldn’t sleep tonight, so I thought I’d find you to play a game of chess,” Jim blurts out. “Rolling around on my bed restlessly for hours wasn’t exactly invigorating for my brain,” he finishes with a small grin, in an attempt to bring humor into the situation.

Spock stares at him again, this time contemplative. Jim shifts uncomfortably some more, inwardly punching himself for thinking this was a good idea. Man, he really needs to storm in on Bones after this, wake him up whether he likes it or not to rant while downing some nice old whisky and whatever other liquor the good doctor has…

“I believe the human colloquialism would be, ‘Come on in,’ Captain.”

“Jim,” Kirk laughs in relief, tension seeping out of him. “Call me Jim. We’re off-duty right now and about to play a game of chess, Spock. There’s no need for formality.”

Spock pointedly ignores his suggestion, instead turning back towards his room without another word, Kirk following close behind.

As he takes in the orderly, impersonal quarters and Spock’s lean figure pulling the chess board out, Jim wonders why he’s really here. It was true that he couldn’t sleep, but before, on sleepless nights, he’d always accepted the fact, gritted his teeth, and lay in bed in restless silence until dawn.

As he watches Spock’s long fingers set up the chess board with graceful precision, Jim finds he knows why. _It’s because of Ambassador Spock_. _That sneaky old Spock, with his sneaky old statement about us being great friends in that other life._

 _“I have been, and always shall be, your friend,”_ that Spock had said, and Jim’s eyes had widened and his mouth had opened to speak but then they had been beamed away, him and Scotty, back onto the Enterprise, and Jim couldn’t confirm it. Couldn’t confirm whether or not the elderly Vulcan’s voice had trembled from something that was not age, or whether or not those deep-seated emotions in his wizened eyes were affection, devotion, trust…

 _I want to be his friend,_ Jim thinks stubbornly. _This Spock’s friend_. _And if what that Spock said was true, and he and that Kirk were the greatest of friends, then surely we could be great friends here as well?_

The thought causes him to hum cheerfully as he ponders his next move, and Spock glances sharply up. Any semblance of warmth flees as Jim wonders, in horror and embarrassment, if he’s done something wrong or offensive. It was true that while teasing his first office, Jim could deduce the Vulcan’s emotions in a heartbeat, but when it came to anything deeper, Jim was helpless.

He was helpless, and the one thing James Tiberius Kirk hated more than anything else in the world was being helpless. He didn’t believe in no-win situations. He couldn’t.

Spock must have noticed a shift in his captain’s countenance, because he asks, tentatively and quietly, what tune Kirk had been humming.

Jim replies just as tentatively, blushing a bit as he says, “It’s nothing. Just a children’s lullaby common among humans – must have done it subconsciously since I’m so damn tired.” He manages to huff out a laugh that does nothing to ease his embarrassment and tension.

There’s an awkward pause Jim should have expected, and he just wants to run away and bang on McCoy’s door already and forget this happened, but then Spock breaks the silence.

Speaking very slowly and very carefully, as if picking his words with great struggle, Spock murmurs, “My mother hummed the same melody when I was very young.”

Another silence, this time a different kind of awkward. A newfound heaviness hangs in the air. Spock is watching Kirk to see how he’ll react, and Kirk feels like he’s drowning in pressure.

 _Well,_ he thinks wryly. _I’ve always worked best under immense pressure._

His first instinct is to brush all of this off with a joke, the way he does all the time with everyone else – but oh yeah, this is Spock, and he can’t afford to mess this up, doesn’t want to.

And so Kirk swallows his ever-present shield of humor and his weapon of pride, and quickly lets out what’s on his heart before he can do something stupid.

“I’m sorry,” Jim says, his voice hoarse with emotion. “About what I said that day on the bridge about you never loving your mom. I didn’t mean it. I… I had to say it, I had to do what I did, you have to trust me on this. I feel so awful, but it was the only way for… reasons, and I know you loved your mom and obviously cared because I _know_ Vulcans have emotions and why else would you have immediately beamed down to a super dangerous situation to get her yourself?”

Jim is rambling now, hardly knowing what’s he’s saying but unable to stop, the momentum of his words surging him forward.

“Look, what I’m trying to say is that I truly would not have done what I did that day if it weren’t because he…”

He broke off abruptly, eyes wide. _Well, that was close. Almost killed our entire universe by revealing Spock Prime to Spock Not-Prime, no big deal. And by the way, nice job on rambling, Jimmy. Real smooth._

His first officer is silent. This appears to be a trend in their relationship – periods of heavy silence. Great. Jim waits, heart beating loudly and quickly.

_Badump. Badump. Badump._

Jim hopes Spock can’t hear his heartbeat, because the guy is kind of known for his acute hearing, but being able to hear someone’s heart beating would take some sort of ultimate hearing power, so what he’s thinking is completely illogical… _Oh great, now I’m thinking like Spock_.

Speaking of “pointy-eared hobgoblins” (as McCoy would say), Spock is now looking at him, and there’s something about his eyes that makes Jim sit up straight and snap out of his thoughts.

Jim waits to be punched, or strangled again, or worse, told that he’ll never be forgiven, but then Spock lets out a breath, a curiously human gesture, and says,

“There is no need for you to apologize. The fault was entirely mine. I am aware of my alternate universe’s counterpart, and understand that you made the necessary choice.”

Spock’s eyes grow immensely serious. “It is I who needs to apologize, Jim.”

 _He called me Jim,_ Kirk thinks dimly, and his mind is a whirl, no longer processing a thing.

“For marooning you and harming you, there is no excuse.” Spock’s eyes settle on Jim’s throat for a brief moment, gentle and full of regret.

“It is I who needs to apologize,” Spock repeats softly, and time completely stops for Jim because it’s absolutely illogical to apologize and even more so to repeat said apology and…

And Jim suddenly remembers what Spock said about the other Spock, and the strange emotions churning inside of him take an icy blow to the gut.

“You know about the other Spock?!” All of the tension that had built up in the room deflates, and is that amusement and chagrin he sees on Spock’s face?

“Yes,” Spock says. Jim waits for him to say something else, anything else, but he doesn’t.

“Wait, then why didn’t the universe implode in some sort of paradox like he said it would?!”

The chagrin on Spock’s face grows more noticeable.

His eyebrows knit together, Spock states with obvious reluctance, “He merely implied such an outcome.”

Jim laughs in disbelief and pleasure. “Isn’t that basically lying? And here I thought Vulcans didn’t lie, but I guess that was a lie too, wasn’t it? Dang, Spock, you sure grow up to be one naughty Vulcan.” He emphasizes his final statement by wriggling his eyebrows, to which Spock does not visibly react.

“I am already an adult, Jim, and therefore your statement is illogical. Furthermore, Ambassador Spock is not precisely I, as he is –”

“Whatever you say,” Kirk interrupts with a huge, goofy grin that immediately shuts Spock up, making his lips form their usual tight, straight line.

They continue their briefly forgotten game of chess in silence, but this time, it’s a good kind of silence. It’s a comfortable sort of silence, one between two people who have passed over a previously unresolved barrier and in turn gained a deeper, richer understanding of the other.

Jim ends up winning, and one of Spock’s brows shoots straight up.

“Remarkable. You have defeated me in a game of logic.”

“And that’s exactly how I won, Mr. Spock,” Jim grins. “By taking advantage of that and making moves that defy logic, thus forcing your hand.”

Spock doesn’t say anything, but there’s a look of approval and admiration in his calm eyes that makes Jim feel rather warm yet also inexplicably nervous.

Yawning, he asks Spock what time it is, “since you’ve got your perfect internal clock and all,” he adds, teasingly.

“0434 hours,” Spock responds mechanically. His shields are completely back now, revealing not a shred of emotion or care. Kirk finds he really, really doesn’t like it when Spock goes “Super-Vulcan” mode, and wonders how he ever was ok with it. Wonders how there was ever a time he couldn’t see past it.

Jim stands up. “I guess I’ll head back to my own quarters now. Sorry for bothering you, Spock, and thanks.” He means more than just for the game, and Spock knows that.

“It was my pleasure, Captain,” Spock replies, and Jim senses a tiny crack in his Super-Vulcan mode perhaps he himself does not even realize. Jim smiles fondly and leaves, humming the same lullaby as earlier under his breath.

Spock does not move after the captain leaves, instead staring at the chess set, its pieces still placed as they were in Jim’s victory. It is illogical of him to sit there, unmoving, rather than immediately clean up the pieces and meditate, but Spock finds for once that he does not care.


	2. First Move

The first time Jim thinks he might feel something more than friendship for Spock is a couple of months after their fateful first chess game, when he sees his first officer and Uhura making out in the middle of the damn ship. _His_ damn ship.

Ok, so making out is a gross exaggeration, but still. Considering Spock is half-Vulcan, they might as well have been going at it like rabbits.

Jim wants to throw up, and not out of disgust.

He and Spock had been about to beam down to Andoria on a rescue mission when Uhura had rushed over, fussing over Spock before kissing him passionately. _Get your hands off my first officer_ , Jim screamed internally. _This isn’t even a particularly dangerous mission, dammit!_

Now, Uhura’s done this multiple times before. Heck, she did it before Jim even knew her first name was Nyota. It was _how_ he found out her first name, actually. But back then, he’d dismissed the disturbed shock that churned his stomach as confusion over how _Spock_ had gotten stunning, gorgeous, perfect-legs _Nyota_. Because what the _hell?_

Back then, he had known he and his first officer were apparently BFFs in another life, but it hadn’t yet registered with him. Being brought up on charges of cheating, left to die on a freezing planet, and nearly strangled didn’t exactly lead to frickin’ rainbows and unicorns.

Since then, they’d made great strides. Jim hadn’t quite reached a point of complete and utter faith in Spock, but it was definitely getting there. Sometimes, it scared Jim how fast he opened up to Spock, and how much he both trusted and depended on the guy. Each mission, the two of them were always in perfect sync, knowing the other’s moves and complementing each other so well that their captain-first officer success was both admired and envied throughout Starfleet. People wanted what they had. He wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Oddly enough, that last thought was what scared him the most. It meant that he was so invested, he couldn’t imagine a life without Spock. It also meant that he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize their budding relationship, _including fall in love with him._

James T. Kirk had always had a great knack for getting into the worst situations, ones people that weren’t him declared “no-win scenarios.” But this situation was different, there really was no salvaging everything he and Spock had built if Spock found out his captain was attracted to him…

 _Ah._ And _that_ ’s why the thought scares Jim the most – everything always comes back to his adamant refusal to accept no-win situations.

Jim’s still bemoaning this turn of events (of course his mind had to pick now of all times to come to terms with his true feelings) when the icy chill of Andoria snaps his mind back to the situation at hand.

They’re here to rescue a prominent Vulcan figure named Storek, who had called in being stranded in Andoria and possibly pursued by Andorians. Communications had broken after that, and it was presumed that Storek had been captured by the Andorians, who didn’t have the greatest history with Vulcans. Not much else had been known, but Starfleet had emphasized that it was essential to rescue Storek and return him to New Vulcan.

As Jim and Spock stumble through the snow – correction, as _Jim_ stumbles through the snow and Spock manages to somehow look semi-graceful – Jim curses loudly.

“Of all the planets this Storek guy had to get marooned in, it had to be the coldest planet of them all.”

“Captain, your statement is inaccurate, as the planet with the lowest known temperatures is not – ”

“Do you know anything about this Storek guy?” Jim cuts Spock off with a sigh.

“Your illogical additions of a pronoun and human vernacular for males aside – ”

“Spock,” Jim groans. “You’re killing me. No, don’t comment on how illogical that is, please.”

There’s a twinkle in Spock’s eyes as he continues, and Jim knows he should be annoyed but he isn’t. Dammit, he’s got it bad.

“I have never heard of the existence of a ‘prominent Vulcan figure’ named Storek.”

Jim considers this briefly. “Any chance he could be a fake?”

Spock tilts his head slightly. “There is a 93.13 percent chance that Storek is a fabricated name. There is also a 98.04 percent chance that he is indeed Vulcan, or Starfleet would not have been so adamant. As it stands, it is highly unlikely that we are entering a trap.”

Jim blows into his thermal-insulated gloves, a subconscious action to warm them up. It very obviously fails, as his exhaled breath just freezes in the air and couldn’t have penetrated his gloves anyways. Jim pointedly ignores the raised eyebrow and veiled amusement shot his way, but finds that he suddenly feels warmer without having done anything at all.

“Great, so all we gotta do is find not-Storek and bring him back, even though he could very well be your dad or, _heaven forbid_ , T’Pring,” Jim mumbles.

Spock freezes (pun unintended), and turns to face Jim, and there’s an uneasy shock running in the depths of his dark eyes, betraying his otherwise calm expression.

“How do you know T’Pring?” The eyes are now searching Jim’s bright blue ones, demanding an answer, not understanding.

Jim freezes as well, his eyes widening almost comically. _How do I know about T’Pring?_

“Um, she’s your ex-bondmate right? I think you probably told me over one of our chess games?”

Spock’s eyes harden, still demanding answers.

“I have never spoken of T’Pring to you, Captain.”

“Oh,” Jim says rather unintelligently. _Where did I hear about her? Think, Jim, think! C’mon!_

Suddenly, he remembers strange flashes of a life that is simultaneously his yet not his. _There’s a reddish desert planet that Jim knows is Vulcan, and a man in a captain’s uniform that is Jim yet not Jim wrestling with a man in science blues that is Spock yet not Spock. A Vulcan woman with hair piled high and an unimpressed expression – T’Pring – watches them in silence. Spock is in pon farr, T’Pring won’t have him for a mate, and this somehow led to Jim fighting Spock, and Spock is out of control, making futile attempts to regain control, because he can’t hurt Jim, he can’t but then Jim is dead – his Jim, his captain – suddenly he is in control again, all urges to mate are gone because Jim, Jim…_

Jim gasps, his head in a whirl from the grief emitting from the flashbacks, a deep, throbbing, yet oddly familiar pain. He clutches blindly about him, grabbing at the first thing he reaches – Spock’s arm. Spock stiffens but does not pull away.

“I fought you on Vulcan when she wouldn’t mate with you during pon farr, and you killed me,” Jim blurts out, mind still in a haze. “You killed me, but you didn’t mean to, and I’m pretty sure I actually ended up alive later?”

Spock pulls roughly away, and the sudden loss of heat effectively clears Jim’s mind even as a flash of disappointment runs through him.

“Captain,” Spock states coldly. “Where did you learn about pon farr? It is not spoken of among Vulcans, and knowledge of it is taboo to outsiders.”

Jim stares at him in shock and confusion. He digs deep into his brain, trying to figure out why he said what he said, and why he knows all this stuff.

Spock stares right back at him, and below the stiffness is a hint of something Jim can’t discern.

“I can assure you that we have never met on Vulcan, and that I have not killed you, as you are standing before me,” Spock states carefully. _Not for lack of trying_ , Jim thinks wryly, and knows that the same thought probably passed through Spock’s mind as well.

“Jim, are you well?” Spock continues after a beat. “Perhaps you are suffering from a psychotic outbreak or allergic reaction.”

Jim almost laughs out loud, the only thing holding him back being that he himself wonders whether or not he’s sane right now. But a psychotic outbreak or allergic reaction or hallucinogenic shrooms doesn’t explain how he knows things about Vulcans, about Spock, that he isn’t supposed to know.

It’s almost like he’s remembering pieces of someone else’s mind that he’s seen.

Which… makes sense, because _Spock Prime_. Spoke Prime, who had mind-melded with him on Delta Vega, and in that meld, revealed to Kirk so many colorful flashes of his life – a life full of happiness, grief, danger, excitement… full of emotion.

There had been so many flashes that Kirk had not known what to focus on, and had instead allowed all of Spock Prime’s shared memories to flood over him, to capture his senses. A few he had seen consciously in detail, while others, like this one of T’Pring and Vulcan, remained in the depths of his subconscious.

Jim straightens. “I’m fine, Spock. I was remembering things I saw in the other Spock’s mind.” He doesn’t like how grave he sounds, so he clears his throat and musters a grin. “I guess this means I can blackmail you since I kind of know all your dirty secrets now.”

It turns out that’s neither the right tone to take nor the right thing to say, and Kirk wishes he could take it back as soon as Spock’s back straightens and he goes into Super-Vulcan mode.

“We must complete our mission at hand,” Spock says sternly, and that’s the end of that.

Except, right then, right as they return to trekking through the barren, icy planet, they see a figure approaching them from the west.

The figure grows closer and closer, until Kirk recognizes who it is.

_Speak of the devil._

Spock Prime appears in front of them, and his wizened face wrinkles into a large smile that fills Jim with overwhelming affection and happiness. He can’t help but smile back widely, slipping his arm into the older Spock’s.

“I am glad you have found me once again, Jim,” Spock Prime says adamantly. His gravelly voice is full of open warmth, and Jim marvels at the differences between this Spock and his Spock.

“My pod suffered technical difficulties upon arrival on Andoria, and my communicators suffered a similar fate shortly after,” Spock Prime continues. “Fortunately, I was able to communicate with Starfleet before the systems failed.”

“You’re Storek?” Jim laughs. “Man, you’re really on a roll with breaking Vulcan traditions. This is the second time I’ve seen you lie.” Being around Spock Prime makes him so at ease, so comfortable. It makes sense, considering the old man saved his life, mind-melded with him, was best friends with Jim in his other life, spoke so warmly to Jim…

The list could go on and on, and it was a remarkably different list than the one Jim could and had formed of his experiences with his own Spock.

Speaking of his Spock, who wasn’t really his ( _at least not the way you wish he would be_ , whispers a horrid part of Jim’s mind), the half-Vulcan is currently giving his counterpart the equivalent of a death-stare.

“It is good to meet you again as well, Spock,” Spock Prime greets him. “I am very happy to see that you are Jim’s first officer.”

“You mind-melded with the captain,” Spock accuses. “He was not aware of the implications of such an action, and therefore had no ability to consent.”

“Woah there, Spock! What kind of greeting is that? Especially for yourself?” Kirk chides, waving his free hand about as his other hand clutches Spock Prime’s arm tighter.

Spock does not reply, and Kirk swears he’s bristling. It’s kind of… cute. _Ok, it’s official. Kirk’s got it real bad. He’s also probably suffering from a psychotic break, allergic reaction, hallucinogenic shrooms… everything that could possibly induce insanity._

Kirk forgets for a moment that Ambassador Spock can feel his emotions through their touch, and it’s only when the elder Spock huffs a laugh and says that Jim’s not insane – merely being his typical illogical self, that Kirk remembers and blushes.

“Bad Vulcan!” He cries, and slaps his hand away from Spock Prime’s arm. “You love my mind way too damn much.”

“That is accurate, Jim,” Spock Prime agrees, eyes twinkling in a way that reminds Jim of his Spock’s reaction to Jim’s attempted glove-warming earlier. Jim feels very warm and very content, like he’s around an old, old friend he hasn’t seen in ages.

 _Which_ , Jim muses, _I sort of am._

Spock – younger Spock – clears his throat in a very human manner. Jim wonders why he’s so annoyed. He’s been acting the Vulcan version of pissy ever since Spock Prime showed up.

Hell, if Jim ever got to see his studly, awesome self show up from an alternate universe, they’d be the best of friends and probably go drinking together all the time. Though that may get boring quick, since their lives would have followed pretty similar patterns so they wouldn't have much to catch up on…

“Captain.”

“Yeah, Commander?”

“We have completed our mission.”

Spock-speak for: _why the hell are you just standing there staring into space dumbly instead of beaming us up, you nimrod?_

The Kirk Translator may not be perfect, but it suffices.

“Beam us up, Scotty.”

Five minutes later, the Enterprise is headed towards New Vulcan, Bones is swearing and fussing over Kirk’s low body temperature readings like a mother hen, and Spock is still acting all hostile towards Spock Prime. Oh, and everyone knows that Spock Prime is basically Spock from a future, alternate timeline thanks to Kirk's big mouth, and are now clamoring to speak with him.

 _Just another normal day aboard the Enterprise,_ Jim thinks cheerfully as he goes to drag Spock Prime away from his curious crew. He’s got a lot of questions for the Vulcan, and he wants answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a side note, Amok Time was such a good episode :')
> 
> Especially:
> 
> Spock: It has to do with... biology.  
> Kirk: What?  
> Spock: Biology.  
> Kirk: What kind of biology?  
> Spock: Vulcan biology.  
> Kirk: You mean the biology of Vulcans?  
> (Spock: Damn you, Jim)


	3. Second Move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for being so slow with updates! I've been rather busy lately, but found the time to get this chapter up. Thank you all for your support <3
> 
> LLAP,  
> Bird

“Ambassador Spock,” Jim says quietly. “Am I supposed to have a bunch of your memories still jumbled up in my head? Heck, was I even supposed to see them in the first place?”

The two of them are standing side by side in Spock Prime’s temporary quarters aboard the Enterprise, staring out into the glistening and fathomless depths of space.

Jim had managed to tear Spock Prime away after a ridiculous amount of struggle. Seriously, when did his crew get so damn insubordinate? Sulu, Uhura, and Chekhov he should have expected; they were too curious and wanted to know what their lives had been like in the other universe. Scotty he also should have expected – the Vulcan _had_ given the engineer the key to warping, after all. Who knew what other secrets to the universe the guy held.

But Bones… now _that_ had been a shock. The good doctor had scowled at Kirk’s comically raised eyebrows and drawled that he had merely come down to the helm to see if “this hobgoblin’s as annoying as ours.”

 _Right,_ Kirk had thought, brows still raised mile-high. _Sure that’s why._

“Shut yer brain up, Jimmy.” If Bones’s scowl had deepened any further, Kirk would have declared it a medical emergency and ordered Nurse Chapel in.

“Aw, Bones, you really do care about Spock! Could it be because you’re secretly part-Vulcan, which would also explain the telepathy?”

“You just think too loudly, ya idiot. I’m a doctor, not a telepath, dammit!”

The bickering pair had grown progressively louder, causing Uhura to mutter “children, please” and roll her eyes in exasperation – a sadly familiar expression to Kirk. Sulu just looked vaguely amused, while Chekhov appeared unsettlingly unaffected ( _Note to self, Captain Kirk: do set a better example for the young ones)._ Finally, Spock Prime cleared his throat and asked if Jim could show him to his temporary quarters to rest.

Well, that effectively shut everyone up (alright, so by everyone he meant himself and Bones, but whatever) _and_ got Jim what he wanted – to be alone with the elderly Spock.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jim suspected that the Vulcan had only said he was tired right then and there because he knew Jim had wanted to speak to him in private. Maybe he even knew exactly what Jim had been planning to ask. He wouldn’t put it past the guy.

Jim peaks over at Spock Prime, who had lapsed into silence after Jim’s question. He looks both lost and contemplative, and Jim’s stomach twists. This isn’t a good sign.

So maybe Spock Prime _doesn’t_ hold all the answers to the universe.

“James.”

Jim feels like a child about to be reprimanded by his grandfather.

“I was not as controlled as I should have been when I mind melded with you. You should not have been able to see so many of my memories, and I am truly sorry if they have caused you any trouble.”

Right, grandfathers never reprimand their grandchildren.

“Nah, they haven’t caused me trouble, per say…” Jim trails off, unsure of how to continue.

Ambassador Spock waits patiently for Jim to collect his thoughts, his eyes still staring out into the glittering darkness. The action is so tender, so full of respect, and so blatantly a habit built up over years of listening to his captain, the other captain, that Jim finds his heart shattering.

“I just,” Jim stutters. “I don’t think…”

The dark, wizened eyes never once waver away from the window. He is purposefully not looking at Jim, and for this, Jim is eternally grateful, because he hates it when people see him like this, unsure and discomposed. He wonders if his Spock will one day know this, and countless other weaknesses and little important things that make James Tiberius Kirk who he is. He really hopes so.

But that’s a thought for another time, and yet another impossible dream to hide away in his heart.

Jim sighs. “I don’t think it’s right for me to keep these memories.” He peers up at the stark white ceiling, his blue eyes growing dim with the weight of a jumble of unknown emotions.

“I’m not your Jim,” Jim continues gravely. He turns towards Spock Prime, who is now gazing at him, equally grave.

“That is correct. But that does not change the fact that I have been, and always shall be, yours, no matter the universe.”

Jim’s eyes soften, brightening a little in the process. “I appreciate that, Ambassador Spock. I really do.” A pause. “I can see how much you cared about your Jim.”

“And I can see how greatly you care for your Spock.”

Jim attempts a noncommittal grunt that sounds painfully close to a strangled sigh. “Not in the same way,” he mutters under his breath.

“You would be incorrect in your assumptions, my old friend."

 _Dammit, I nearly forgot about Vulcan hearing,_ Jim mentally grimaces. Then his mind processes Spock Prime’s words, and he freezes.

“What?”

“I do not believe I need to repeat myself, Jim.” Amusement crackles in Ambassador Spock’s wonderful gravelly voice, a voice Jim hopes he’ll live to hear develop in his Spock. _Wow, I’m just full of sappy thoughts and stupid wishes today, aren’t I?_

“I don’t think you understand,” Jim says carefully.

“On the contrary, I believe I understand perfectly well.” Spock Prime is back to staring out the window again, his straightened figure reminding Jim that this is indeed his science officer, albeit from another time and another world…

What does Spock Prime mean? He _understands?_ _Bull._ Besides, even if they are talking about the same kind of love, they aren’t the same people, so it doesn't matter anyways. Case in point: Spock is dating Uhura, hello?

Jim decides he won’t let himself think too much about it. Screw love. To kind-of-sort-of quote Bones, he was a starship captain, not some angsty teenager, dammit!

Now back to business. He’d wanted to talk to Spock Prime about memory voodoo, not dance around vague notions of… whatever it was they had been talking about.

Jim opens his mouth to speak, but Ambassador Spock beats him to it.

“Jim, I agree with you and will extract my memories from your mind.”

Jim closes his mouth, then opens it again.

“What?” _Man,_ he was acting like some broken machine set on repeat.

If Vulcans were in the habit of sighing, Spock Prime probably would have sighed loudly. Or not, considering he’d known a Jim Kirk for so long.

“Your face is too honest at times, Jim. One does not need telepathy to read it.”

 _Great_. _Just great. So I’m an open book screaming my emotions to the world._

“I did not mean my words as an insult.”

“Apology duly noted, Mr. Spock,” Jim chuckles. He hadn’t really been offended; he rather found the situation hilarious, actually. James Tiberius Kirk’s superpower: turning those around him into telepathic beings since… whatever stardate the other him had been born.

Spock Prime’s eyes warm at his cheeky response, no doubt recalling a distant time when another captain often retorted in the same manner. “While my accidental transference has not revealed to you any universal secrets, I note that they have weighed heavily on your mind nonetheless.” Spock Prime reaches a grizzled hand towards Jim’s face. "That reason alone is more than enough for me."

The hand pauses, trembling slightly in mid-air. “My Jim and I held a bond of incomparable strength, and when I felt your mind, so reminiscent of my ashayam, I allowed unrelated memories to slip past my shields for you to view. Your Spock is correct in this regard – I have done something unforgivable.”

“No, you haven’t,” Jim says earnestly. He doesn't quite understand what Spock Prime means by bond or by 'ashy yam', but decides that isn't important for now. “In a way, I’m glad I got to keep some of your memories for a while. It made me feel more complete, weirdly enough.”

“That is not ‘weird’ at all, Jim,” Spock Prime answers, his fingertips connecting with the meld points on Jim’s temple. “It is logical.”

Before Jim can retort that Spock Prime’s definition of logical must not be very logical at all, there’s a flash, a blur, and a brief sensation of loss.

Spock Prime’s fingers leave Jim’s face, and Jim searches long and hard for any remnants of life in an alternate universe. He finds nothing, except…

“Why do I still remember seeing your memory with T’Pring, other me, and you in pon farr on Vulcan?”

“I found that your conscious knowledge of that specific memory was triggered through a conversation with my younger counterpart on Andoria. Removing it would have left a gap in your proper memories with your Spock, which I did not trust to be wise.”

“That’s thoughtful of you,” Jim whispers.

“I do not believe allowing you to keep a memory in which I killed my Jim while under sexual duress to be particularly thoughtful.”

Jim laughs, rolling his eyes. “He has a sense of humor! I knew it!”

“Indeed we do,” Spock Prime states succintly.

Jim falls back onto one of the chairs in the quarters, tired but relieved. “Tell me more, oh wise and elder Spock.”

They spend the rest of the night chatting freely, swapping lighthearted tales of adventure and friendship. Neither one of them reveals their own secrets or the secrets of their respective worlds, but they do not need to.

After all, one already knew all about the other, while the other would (hopefully) come to know in time.

At the crack of dawn (younger Spock would throw an absolute fit at the illogical phrase), a knock came at the door.

Jim stifles a yawn. “Shoot, I lost track of time.”

“It is currently 0500 hours, Jim.”

“We sure talked for a long time,” Jim chuckles.

“Indeed,” Spock Prime replies. “I am grateful for the opportunity.”

Jim stands up and, turning towards the door, yells, “Unless you’re an axe murderer or a traitor, come on in! I de-authorized the locks.”

He turns back towards Ambassador Spock. “I hope you don’t mind me doing that. It’s probably a curious crewmember eager to catch you before alpha shift starts.”

Spock Prime shakes his head in twinkling amusement. “I find I do not mind.”

“Also, your ‘grateful’ talk made it sound like I did something life-changing for you, geez.” Jim bats his hand at the elderly man as he backs away towards the now-opening door.

“You did.”

“I... really?” Jim falters at the gravity and loneliness that wells up in Spock Prime’s voice.

They share a long, searching gaze before Jim breaks out into a soft smile. “I’m grateful too, then, to have been able to spend the night together. Thanks for listening to me and for understanding.”

“And for the mind meld – that sure _cleared_ things up for me,” Jim winks at his own terrible pun, bringing a slight rumbling laughter out of the ambassador.

Someone behind Jim clears their throat.

Jim swings around awkwardly, only to slam straight into his immaculate first officer.

Spock tilts his chin down towards Jim, arching an eyebrow. “Am I interrupting?” There’s the slightest of frowns on his face.

Jim’s heart is beating too loudly and quickly at their proximity, and he thinks suddenly that if he would only bring his face a few inches up, he and Spock could be kissing.

 _Hmm… now that’s an idea_ , the irrational corner of Jim’s mind smirks.

 _No,_ the rest of Jim’s brain screams. _Don’t do it._ Would a kiss be worth losing a budding friendship over? Would it be worth losing a faultless first officer over? Would it be worth losing _Spock_ over?

 _Definitely not._ Jim pulls away from Spock sharply. Is it just his imagination, or does the Vulcan look briefly confused and worried? The pause was probably too long; he really needs to stop having angsty internal dialogue whenever he runs into his first officer.

“You’re not interrupting anything, Mr. Spock. Don’t worry about it. I was just about to leave.”

Jim whirls towards Spock Prime, who looks a little too entertained by Jim’s awkwardness. Damn him.

“See you around, Ambassador Spock, and welcome aboard the ship. Or should I say welcome back, since this was basically your ship? I don’t think I’ve said either yet,” Jim grins. “Guess that makes me a terrible captain.”

“Captain, welcoming visitors is not a regulation and therefore does not impact your status as captain.” Spock looks deathly serious as he speaks, prompting Jim to puff out his cheeks in amusement.

“What was that you said about a sense of humor?” Jim directs pointedly at Spock Prime, who does the Vulcan equivalent of a shrug and causes younger Spock to look scandalized.

“Well, I guess I’ll be going now and leaving you two to your own business,” Jim declares awkwardly and unnecessarily. “Maybe I’ll even manage to get a whole hour of sleep before alpha shift.”

He groans and stretches his aching arms as he speaks, not noticing the way Spock’s eyes sweep over his momentarily exposed stomach.

After Jim leaves, Spock turns to face his elderly counterpart, who doesn’t look at all surprised to see Spock there.

“I wish to speak with you,” Spock says.

“I surmised as much,” Spock Prime replies.

The ensuing silence is almost physically painful.

Meanwhile, Jim flops down onto his bed in his quarters. As he drifts off into a restless sleep, his last conscious thought is:

_I really hope the two of them don’t kill each other._


	4. New Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally an update! Again, thank you all for your patience :) (Why the heck did I write in present tense for the first three chapters? The world may never know… Anyways, the story is now written in past tense)
> 
> ~Bird

Jim woke up when cold liquid smacked onto his pounding head (where did this headache come from?) and found himself no longer in his quarters. Instead, he was in the middle of a weirdly lit cave.

_What the hell?_

Above him, stalagmites were dripping hopefully-not-radioactive glowing liquid. Across from him, Spock was meditating, sitting cross-legged on the frozen ground. The light from the stalagmites cast an otherworldly sheen on the half-Vulcan. In any other situation, Jim would have paused to admire the scene, but right now he was in an unknown situation and needed answers, stat.

“Spock? Spock, what happened? Is this Andoria? It is, isn’t it? Why the hell are we still here?”

Spock’s eyes snapped open, and his body, still seated in a stiff meditative pose, loosened slightly as he stared at the bewildered captain.

Jim glanced around in confusion, head continuing to throb painfully. How come he couldn’t remember how he got to this damp cave? And what happened to…

“Where’s Spock Prime? We should be on the ship with him, I don’t understand…” Kirk trailed off, mind whirling. He honestly recalled nothing beyond crawling into bed at 5 in the morning after chatting with the elder Spock all night.

“Captain,” Spock finally spoke up in a guarded tone. “What do you remember?”

Jim was more than happy to relay his memories to his first officer in the hopes that their stories would align and that their current situation would somehow make perfect sense. Of course, he wisely left out the part where Spock made out with Uhura. And the part where he tried to warm his gloves dumbly. And, obviously, the part where he realized he was in love with his first officer. And all the other unnecessary parts (there were sadly a lot). 

Jim could be direct when he wanted to, dammit. He wasn’t always a rambling idiot, even if Bones (and probably Spock) thought otherwise. 

As he finished his blunt explanation, Jim had a sinking suspicion that his memories were all wrong – Spock’s knitted eyebrows and grave expression clued him off.

“None of what I just said actually happened, did it?” 

“Correct.” 

“Care to clarify, Mr. Spock?” Jim rubbed at the back of his head, only to discover a large bump. Ah, so _that_ was why his head hurt. “I’m sure the truth will be one hell of a story if it caused this injury and a bunch of fake memories.”

* * *

 

So, it turned out that yes, they had beamed down to Andoria in response to a distress call by a mysterious Vulcan. However, they hadn’t gone down alone; there had been two red shirts with them (“It would have been illogical to carry out a mission with merely the captain and first officer,” Spock had remarked pointedly at this point of the story. Of course Jim’s first officer would chew him out for having illogical fake memories. Of course). 

The first leg of the journey had gone smoothly; they were nearly halfway to the origin of the distress signal when Spock’s scanners had picked up a life form approaching from the west. Here, Jim had interrupted Spock.

“Hey, that’s kind of like what I remember, except it was Spock Prime who suddenly appeared. Let me guess, this wasn’t as pleasant a surprise.”

“I am afraid not,” Spock replied. “Unless you consider white, 17.3 feet high predatory creatures pleasant, Captain.”

Jim snorted. Now this was the humor Spock Prime had been referring to. But wait… if his memories were all fabricated, then did that mean he hadn’t actually spoken to the old man? 

Before Jim could delve too deeply into his thoughts, Spock resumed his tale as if Jim had never interrupted him in the first place. 

The creature had moved too quickly for them to stop it, and in its rampage it had killed the two crew members with them. Jim had put up a valiant fight alongside Spock, but their phaser fire had simply been absorbed by the enraged creature. It managed to hit Jim in the head, knocking him out and forcing Spock to grab him and run into a nearby cave, calculating that the opening would be too small for the creature to fit into. 

Jim looked away in shock and sorrow at Spock’s words. Two crew members, dead. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember what had happened – they were still gone and Jim hadn’t been able to help them. 

Spock waited for Jim to collect himself, a heavy silence hanging between the two. After a few moments, Jim turned back to Spock, a familiar determined look on his face. Captain James T. Kirk was back in business. After all, one couldn’t mourn forever. He had seen firsthand what that did to people - what that had done to Winona Kirk, still pining for a hero of a husband and a father Jim had never known.

“What happened to the creature? If it’s still out there, we need to come up with an escape plan and then resume our search for the missing Vulcan. I also need you to update me with communications statuses, Mr. Spock – have you been able to contact our ship?” 

Spock didn’t answer. 

“Mr. Spock?” 

An unsettling stillness was Jim’s only answer. For whatever reason, his first officer was staring unblinkingly at him as though in a trance. It was uncharacteristic and creepy as hell, if Jim were to be honest.

“Commander?” 

Spock stood up. “Kroikah yuk-tor, Jim.” _Stop thy sleeping, Jim._ Spock was speaking to him in Vulcan, something he’d never once done even after Jim had revealed that he was fluent during one of their chess games about a month ago. 

Something was very, very wrong here. 

Jim stood up as well. “What do you mean, wake up? I am awake, Mr. Spock. Answer my questions.”

Spock tilted his head in response, looking absolutely _feral_. It reminded Jim of when Spock had nearly strangled him to death on the helm, and he repressed his fight-or-flight instincts. 

In dangerous situations, Captain Kirk never backed away. Never. 

“Answer me. That’s an order, officer.”

Mind pumping with adrenaline, Kirk quickly thought things through. This was either Spock under the influence of something, or it wasn’t Spock at all. No matter what, his best option was to stun the man, because he definitely couldn’t overpower Vulcan strength. 

Kirk reached down for his phaser.

Spock _growled_ , and then before Jim could react, morphed into a huge, white creature whose frame crushed through the walls of the tiny cave, exposing them to the harsh Andorian wind and snow. _Why do I have a feeling that this lovely creature is 17.3 feet tall?_ Jim thought. But that didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense – how could Spock turn into a creature he'd just been talking about? On the flip side, how could a random creature mimic Spock? Actually, how could a creature knocking him out cause him to have completely different memories of their mission in the first place? Amnesia he could understand, but brand new, strangely specific memories altogether?

Surely this was all some convoluted dream?

The creature leaned down, opening its mouth mere inches from Jim’s face. Jim could see its sharp fangs, its bottomless throat at the back of its gaping mouth, its dripping saliva…

He had a sudden flashback to when Spock had marooned him way back when and a similarly large creature had been after him. Back then, Spock – old Spock – had come to his rescue.

There was no Spock, old or not, to save him this time.


	5. Time Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for not updating until now! :( I just finished with college finals and am on my break, so I now have some time to write. Thank you for bearing with me, and I appreciate your comments and kudos and love so very much <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter :)
> 
> ~Bird

“Captain.” 

…

“Jim.”

…

“Wake up, Jim.”

Jim startled awake at the words, so similar to the ones spoken in Vulcan earlier.

_Cease thy sleeping, Jim._

“Spock?” 

He struggled to sit up, only to find Spock’s fingers pressed on his shoulders, shaking him. It all came back to him. The monster. The feral gaze, the sharp teeth. Spock was the monster. No, wait, the monster was Spock? 

Kirk flailed. 

“Get away from me!” 

He practically screamed the words in his panic. How ironic that in any other situation, he would have been horrendously pleased to have Spock touching him, because Spock never initiated contact and because, well, Spock touching him. But right now everything was whirling, and he was so confused and afraid and… 

Spock released him, an expression of mild shock flickering across his typically schooled features. It really was too bad Kirk was in no state of mind to catalogue Spock’s micro-expression, to add it to his growing collection of startlingly endearing “Spock faces.” He couldn’t even gloat at having surprised his first officer (a rare occasion, to say the least). He was too busy panting with nervous energy, adrenaline pumping as if he’d run a marathon.

“I don’t understand. You morphed into a monster. You were about to attack me. How are you back to being _you_?” He trailed off, trying to wrack his brain for answers it obviously didn’t have. Dammit! Jim hated not knowing things, and right now he didn’t know a single _damn_ thing about where he was, what he was doing, or if his first officer was even his first officer.

Spock moved his arms and Jim involuntarily flinched. 

Something incomprehensible flashed alongside more distinguishable emotions (regret and guilt?) in Spock’s eyes as he continued to move his arms, albeit more slowly and deliberately, until they were neatly clasped behind his back.

A familiar stance. Jim sighed and relaxed a little, trying to clear his mind. 

Spock spoke up. “Captain, I assure you that I am no monster, although admittedly ‘monster’ holds variable definitions.” 

A typical Spock response. Jim relaxed a little more, but was still on edge. The Spock-monster-creature-whatever-that-was had had a Spock attitude and wry sense of humor to boot.

But surely that had been a dream or hallucination? At this point, which of his memories were fake and which were real? And while he was at it with the deep unanswerable questions, what was the meaning of life? 

 _Fuck it_ , he thought. _And if anyone is listening to my stupid thoughts right now, pardon the especially colorful language, but fuck._

Captain James Tiberius Kirk was going to get out of his head and roll with the punches. 

He should be used to crazy situations by now, anyhow. His whole life had been one punch after the other, starting literally from the moment he was born. Earning his own starship (and the _Enterprise_ of all starships) alongside a courageous crew had been the crowning glory of his life. Sometimes he wondered what he’d done to deserve such perfection. 

Now was not one of those times. 

“So, Mr. Spock, care to catch me up on what’s happening? Also,” Kirk gave a cursory glance at his dismal – and unfortunately familiar – surroundings. “Why the hell are we still in this cave?”

They both pretended not to notice Spock’s obvious relief at having a functional, more normal version of his captain back.

But this time, Jim carefully captured his first officer’s relieved, softened expression in the back of his mind.

* * *

They’d apparently beamed down to Andoria to retrieve a priceless artifact that an Andorian thief had brought back to his home planet. Shortly after they (they being Jim, Spock, and a couple of obligatory redshirts) arrived, a huge blizzard had arrived as well, causing a landslide that had buried the entire away team.

Spock, being able to regulate his body temperature far better than humans and having more strength, had managed to stay conscious and push his way out of the snow. He had found Jim unconscious beside him, but fortunately with most of his body above the snow (thank goodness for small favors). 

Then – plot twist – grotesque, silvery creatures had appeared out of nowhere, apparently attracted to the landslide because _of course_. This wonderful twist had forced Spock to grab Jim and run the hell out of there and to this creepy cave, with the honorable captain sleeping like a baby in his arms the entire time. 

Ok, so that wasn’t exactly how Spock had phrased everything, but it was close enough. 

Bottom line, Jim had redshirts still stranded out there. He didn’t care anymore about fake memories or why everything was turning out the way it was. Why didn’t matter at this point, only how. How to save his people, that is. 

Which was why the dynamic duo was now headed back to the scene of the accident, grotesque creatures and protesting half-Vulcans be damned. 

“Why did you just leave them there to die?” Jim spat out through chattering teeth. Stupid cold. Good thing Spock, with his usual brisk movement, was ahead of him in the heavy snow and couldn’t see him, though he could probably _hear_ Jim’s chattering. _Bless weak human constitutions and impossible Vulcan hearing,_ Jim thought wryly. 

“Had I remained, you and I would have perished before assisting them. Retreat was logical.” 

Stupid logical Vulcans. Why did they usually have to be right?

Jim sighed. “I know. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. I just can’t help but think – hope – that there’s always a way to save everyone.” 

He barked out a laugh that was bitterer than he’d aimed for. “You’d think I know better than to think like that by now, being a seasoned starship captain and all that.” The last part he said in biting sarcasm that would have made Bones proud.

“It is an admirable trait.” 

Jim stared at Spock’s back in pleased shock, his cheeks warming. He thought for a moment that he must have misheard, but then Spock’s strong, straight, muscled ( _stop it, Jim!)_ back stiffened, and he increased his pace. 

Jim snorted. He couldn’t help himself. “I knew it! You love me.” _I wish,_ Jim thought. 

Spock’s pace increased even more. It was like he wasn’t even trekking through knee-deep snow anymore, but was walking on a clear road or across the smooth bridge on the Enterprise. Jim was kind of impressed. 

“I am Vulcan. The definition of love…” 

“Shut up, Spock.” Jim grinned widely – the Vulcan was flustered! Of all the possible reactions (among them disgust or no reaction at all), this was by far the best. Now he kind of wished he was in front of Spock so that he could see the expression on his face. 

But even though he couldn’t, the whole exchange was totally worth now having to trudge madly and very ungracefully in order to keep up with a Vulcan who was somehow making it look effortless.

It didn’t take too long to reach the scene of the landslide, seeing as Spock hadn’t been able to carry Kirk very far. Because of the weird, distorted creatures after them, not because he was too heavy. An unnecessary add-on, but Jim had this irrational fear (premonition?) that he was going to become one of those old, chubby men with the beer bellies in a couple of decades, so he could be testy with his weight. 

He could also be testy when it came to losing crewmembers. Spock’s scanners had picked up one life form, not two, and they’d found Ensign Bates unconscious but still alive. The snow had actually assisted with keeping her alive, as the cold had slowed down her bodily functions. Kirk thanked all the lucky stars in the universe and got a medical team to beam down and take her back for treatment.

But where was the other redshirt? Sure, they joked all the time about how redshirts were the first to go, but that didn’t mean… 

That didn’t mean they deserved to die. That didn’t mean they should die. 

Jim ignored the numbing cold that was now seeping through his thermal attire and continued digging through the snow.

“Captain.”

“What do you want, Spock?” He was still pawing aimlessly at the never-ending whiteness, looking for any signs of a body. The man deserved to be buried, and his family deserved closure. “If you’re just going to be standing there, why don’t you help me?” 

“There is a 1.43% chance of finding Ensign Olsen.”

“A chance is a chance,” Jim replied resolutely. 

“Like hell it is.”

Jim started at hearing the rough voice he knew so well. He finally stopped his now-robotic motions in the snow to look up, and sure enough, saw a scowling doctor leaning over him. 

“Bones! What brings you down here on this fine day?”

“Shut it, Jim.”

Jim snorted and went back to digging.

McCoy frowned, his brow furrowed. “Look man, as much as I hate to agree with the hobgoblin, you know it’s pointless to go on like this.” 

“Like what?” Jim asked stubbornly.

“Jim” – Jim could just imagine the scowl planted on Bones’s face – “my team’s already scanned and searched the area and found no signs of the kid. The area’s way too large, and there’s been too much snowfall and wind. At this rate, you’re only gonna hurt yourself looking.” 

Jim didn’t reply or stop searching. 

“Dammit, Jim!” Bones crouched down beside the captain and felt his forehead before he could put up a protest. “I knew it, you’re burning up, dammit!” With a swift motion, he jabbed a hypo into the side of Jim’s neck.

 _That_ got Jim to stop his fruitless search.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?”

“So you don’t die of hypothermia.”

“I’m pretty sure there aren’t hypos for that, you bastard!”

Bones shrugged and stood up. “Who knows? All I know is that your stubborn ass is freezing to death, and we need that ass to warm the captain’s chair, not desecrate the morgue.”

Jim didn’t move to get up, but didn’t go back to digging either. Bones’s eyes softened a little in understanding. “I’m sorry, Jim. I really am. Hell, I wanna get the kid – Olsen – a proper burial as much as you do, but your crew needs you functional. Starfleet needs you functional. Not a popsicle.”

“Plus, they’d probably stick the blame on me. _Chief medical examiner lets poster boy captain die of hypothermia on Andoria!_ I can practically – “ 

“Bones.”

“What?” 

“Shut up.”

“What d’ya mean, shut– “

“Commander,” Jim got up, weary but resolute. “Let’s go find that thief and complete our mission.”

“Of course, Captain.” Jim had to be imagining the slight admiration and tenderness floating in Spock’s eyes. The cold (or that damn hypo) was making him see things. 

There could be no other possible explanation. 

“Great! Fantastic!” An exaggeratedly cheery voice interrupted Jim’s brief reverie. “Up and at ‘em, Jimmy! Now you take care of this here fellow, got it Mr. Spock? Humans can be _very_ fragile, unlike hobgoblins.” 

“Go away, Bones.”

The man always managed to tread the fine line between getting on Jim’s nerves and making him feel better.

With the medical team and Ensign Bates safely back aboard the Enterprise, Kirk and Spock headed towards the thief’s coordinates. 

They trekked in silence, and Jim grudgingly decided that Bones’s hypo _had_ been useful after all, because he didn’t even realize how dangerously cold he’d gotten. But now the hypo had his body temperature back to normal and he felt a lot more in control of himself, not that he would ever admit all of this to Bones, the annoying idiot. 

They were nearly at the thief’s location when the strangest creatures surrounded them. Weirdly distorted and opaque, the silver blobs floated slightly above the snow, leering over the pair.

“Captain,” Spock spoke in a warning tone, reaching for his phaser. Kirk realized that these were the creatures Spock had described earlier, the ones that had appeared right after the landslide. He had a brief moment of déjà vu. At least Spock hadn’t turned into the creatures this time? 

Speaking of the creatures (he didn’t know what else to call them), they were now interlinking with each other, forming an impermeable ring around the captain and his first officer. A low humming noise – perfectly in sync – emitted from their mouth-less forms and they began to glow an eerie red. This wasn’t looking good.

All Jim remembered before blacking out was Spock pushing him to the ground.

 _Stupid_ , Jim thought. _Stupid Vulcan shielding his useless captain. But that’s why… love… scared for him… be ok…. cold…_

 


End file.
